


Making it Up as We Go

by SiriKenobiWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Castiel POV, Gen, Lucifer Rising, M/M, but Castiel does have a crush of sorts on Dean at this point but he doesn't get it, season 4, the romantic angle is there if you squint, to me Castiel isn't in love with Dean til s6 and for Dean the romantic love doesn't appear til s7-s8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 17:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11994216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiriKenobiWinchester/pseuds/SiriKenobiWinchester
Summary: Castiel decides to help Dean in Lucifer Rising





	Making it Up as We Go

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a short fic I thought I'd write :)

Fractures of light splintered as he opened his eyes once again in heaven, the dimsensional vastness breaking over him, stars and galaxies and nebula a vivid presence in his senses. It was all before him, his vessel only a pinprick of him now in his periphery. Here, if he swung out towards the edges of heaven where one could look over the edge and into the tumbles of the universe, he could be alone with his thoughts. 

“spineless...souless son of a bitch.” 

He flew out from the brightness of heaven, of the sun, and into the colder parts of the Solar System. Mars hung before him and he tried to focus on it, on the majestic towering of Olympus Mons which shot up into the atmosphere taller than anything on Earth. But it did nothing to cancel out the human's words, the redness of the world reminding him too much of the pink lips curled in disgust. 

“What do you care about dying? You're already dead.” 

Careening headlong through space, Castiel leapt over Jupiter, and slid on Saturn's rings, trying to distract the shuddering in his consciosness, the shuddering that was pushing through the choir of voices of his brothers and sisters in his mind that wanted him to forget. 

“We're done.”

They should have mean't nothing to him. He should think nothing of them, view them as the rantings of a lesser being who just couldn't grasp the spanning eternities of the universe, of the rules that interworked between them. 

But Dean's words still hurt. And that was wrong. He couldn't be swayed by that, not of any human, and certainly not by Dean. Not Dean, who was better than Castiel could ever hope to be. 

He doubled back to leap among with asteroid belt where Inias, meditating on Ceres, asked him what was wrong. Castiel, voice choked, grace stifled, the memory of that curt dismisal shaking him to his core, could only shake his head and zoom on. 

The clouds of Uranus, more blue than green, but still too close to the eyes of that man who, like a splinter, seemed to have heavily lodged in something deep within him, so punturing that it could never, ever, come out again. The grace and light would warp and build around it and it would be with him forever, a constant niggling reminder of his time where he'd had someone. He saw Hester's relflection in the dark rings of the planet and felt himself shiver. He knew his behavior wouldn't help his standing, but he couldn't help it, nor more than he could help the way Dean had crept into the tight walls of his grace and mind, always there, neither a paternal presence like God, nor the comforting norm of his siblings. Dean was new. Dean was different and so very special.

And he would never see the man again now. The thought filled him with dread.

“You don't understand, Dean,” his whispered to the green-blue world, watching the smooth clouds of hydrogen, helium, and icy volatiles that weren't the right shade as they swirled like grace before him. 

"Do you even agree with Zachariah? That I was born to hunt, that all of this is my job?  
Dean had asked him one day when the both of them had been alone, back before he'd been snatched up by Zachariah and his co-horts but after Castiel's superior had put Dean and his brother though that alternate reality. One that Zachariah had made Castiel watch, in some kind of hope of making Castiel's fascination with Dean abate. It hadn't worked. 

He hadn't answered Dean's question then, but the closeness there had felt...warm. Dean had always felt warm in a different way to heaven. Both were inticing, both drew him in, but for heaven it was in the upper portions of his true form, where the human brain might lodge, but with Dean? With Dean it was somewhere in his middle, slightly aching, a star preparing to grow larger in his very core. Dean's skin beneath the hand of a human was nerve-wracking, so different from how he'd felt held in his whorls of grace. He could feel muscle and bone twitching beneath the skin, ready to fight or hunch in away from the terrifying world. And he couldn't begin to understand why this pesky human had gotten under his skin in such a quick amount of time, how he felt closer to him than he had to most in over a millenia. How he'd never known he was missing something. And Dean, Dean seemed to accept the stuff about him that he figured most humans would not. Of course, it was clear he did view Castiel has possibly dangerous, but he- and he alone- could get Castiel to turn and face him, to argue, to beg, to see him as something, as someone, like him. The man wasn't afraid of Castiel enough that he wouldn't touch him back.

With that dangerous feeling making the ringing of voices in his head grow synapse-splitting, he flashed out faster and faster towards the coldness of Neptune, of Pluto, of the Kuiper belt and comets.

Dean had looked so cold when he'd said those last two words, the air between them shattering, smashed ice and broken hopes all that was left betixt their feet. It wasn't fair, he thought in a strangely human way as he sunk amongst the oort clouds and icy snowballs hovering and moving around him. Maybe out here he could quell the heat that had been vibrating in his true form, let the chorus in his head drown out the green eyes and the small smile he'd gotten a few times, memories he now found himself holding close. 

The bond, tenuous though it had been, between him and Dean was something he could almost see before him now. Could see how it streched out through the void and back to earth, the entire thing beginning to disintegrate. Soon the heat would be gone and so would everything that he'd found, even if only for a short while. 

"You are making a mistake."

Castiel didn't know where the words were coming from, but they echoed in his mind and he sat up, images rushing through his memory, stopping on one he'd been thinking of before, of Dean asking him softly, sitting on his bed, the lights casting his dirty-blond hair into fragments of tones. Dean had met Castiel's eyes after asking about whether or not Castiel agreed with Zachariah's opinion of Dean. At the time Castiel hadn't answered, too torn to know what to even say. Now he felt even more frozen at the look in Dean's desperate, tired irises. He suddenly had the urge to lay his hand over those eyes, to take away the pain, the suffering. But he knew Dean wouldn't want that, not completely. And now he wished, looking at the pain in the man's face, that he'd given an answer that Dean deservd to hear. 

Another memory came up then, of Dean standing over him, having just saved him from Alistair. It was unpresedented, a human- particularly one who was angry with him- saving an Angel, a small, fragile flower throwing itself before a tree to save it from the storm. Something swelled up in him at those two particular images, of the vulnerable and the brave man he had come to know. The drop in time who saw Castiel as more, who would save him even though they weren't friends, who accepted him even though they were on vastly different plains, not even the same species. 

The voices vanished and he found himself rushing ahead, preparing to do what he had never thought possible, what he never thought he could do. He would do what Dean had asked of him, he would help Dean help save the world or die trying. At least this way, he could pass on with a good conscience, knowing that Dean didn't hate him. And as he landed before Dean, covering his mouth to prevent him from alerting Zacharian, he felt a calm certaintiy fill him, even as he cut open his arm and painted the walls with the red of it. 

Nothing would tear him and Dean apart. Not heaven, not hell, nor Zachariah, Lucifer or anyone else. And especially not himself. He had chose Dean and he would live with it. Forever. Because the man, humanity....it was all worth it.


End file.
